A Pirate's Life For Me
by Peghead Flannaghann
Summary: Stephanie, Lester and Hal are going undercover... as pirates?
1. Prologue

_Welcome to my more serious fanfiction featuring all your favourites that I absolutely do not own and am not making money from. Please read and review this short teaser of a prologue and I'll get back to you with the first chapter._

**A Pirate's Life for Me**

**Prologue**

When Ricardo "Ranger" Manoso knocked on my apartment door asking for my help with a case, I never imagined it would lead to this. I stood in the centre of the football field covered only by a tiny skirt and a tight fitting top that left my mid drift bare. Around me were peppy college girls dressed identically to me and guys in uniforms the same colour. The cold air drifted over my exposed flesh, making me shiver and I tried to concentrate on my upcoming task. The music started and I immediately got into position. My body was moving almost independently of my mind, but I was used to that by now. What I wasn't used to was the high pitched squeal ringing through my head.

"Does anyone else hear a squealing noise?" I asked aloud, though I wasn't sure if I was asking the cheerleaders dancing around me or the men on the other end of the comm. system in my ear. Either way, the answer was negative, which meant it was just me. Great. Trying to ignore the sound, I cartwheeled across the group, ending in a front flip that landed me with a foot in the hand of each of the two waiting male cheerleaders.

"I have a visual," Tank's voice cut across the constant chatter on the earpiece. "Cal, Bobby, Hank, come in from the left down the bleachers to the fifth row. Junior and Hank, come from the right."

The chatter returned as I was launched into the air, allowing my body to manoeuvre itself to complete the turns and twists necessary for the routine. I was halfway through the first twist of a move called the double down when the shouting started. I had no idea what was going on but it didn't sound good. The squealing got louder in direct proportion to the commotion coming from the earpiece. I was getting dizzy, still spinning through the air. Suddenly there was a small pop in my head and everything went black. I hadn't even reached my catcher's arms.


	2. Chapter 1

_Here's the first chapter. I know. It's short. But I'm pretty sure things will get more long winded once we get into the thick of things. Please remember to let me know what you think._

**Chapter 1: Two Months Earlier**

Bobby wasn't sure if it was the booze talking, but he was pretty sure the technology his old med school buddy, Hubert Steinburg, was explaining was absolutely brilliant. Who wouldn't want to be able to do whatever they put their mind to without having to go through the tedious hours, days, weeks, months, years of training first? Only NO ONE! He looked back on all the years of medical school, flubbing examinations, screwing up diagnoses, and the hours spent working on his needle work. What he wouldn't have given to just visualise what he needed to do and do it, instead of wasting his time practicing. He told Hubert as much.

"I know," Hubert enthused, sucking down another mouthful of beer. "My mind is completely blown by the potential." He sat up from his pool lounger, nearly falling off as he over balanced. "Do you know how big it is?" he asked, his eyes wide, clearly fanatical about the topic. He held up his slender hand, just his pinkie extended and used the index finger of his other hand to point to the fingernail. "Half the size of that. And just as thin."

"Woah," Bobby breathed. "I am so jealous right now."

Hubert grabbed another beer from the cooler at his feet and relaxed back. "Me too," he sighed. "I'm tempted to sign up for the trial. Have someone put one in my head rather than me putting it in someone else's."

Bobby chuckled as a thought crossed his mind. When Hubert asked what had him giggling he began to explain about his recent struggles to train an easily deterred woman. It had taken months to get her to the point where she could actually punch efficiently, and that was just the tip of the ice berg. If she had this implant all she'd need to do is the fitness training and she'd be golden.

If only the world worked like that.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Wrapped in a terrycloth robe, my hair still damp from the shower I'd finished a few minutes ago, I plopped down on the couch with a beer and the reheated leftovers from dinner at my parents' house earlier in the week. It had been a long day, starting at seven in the morning, which, while it wasn't insanely early, was still earlier that I would have liked. Bobby usually held our training sessions in the afternoon or midmorning when I was more likely to be willingly awake, but with him out of town on a boys' weekend with an old friend he'd enlisted Tank as his substitute teacher.

Let me just say that where the men were concerned, subs were nothing like they were when I was in school. There was no slacking off while the teacher was away. Especially when Tank was your substitute. Tank took his job seriously, which meant if you cracked a joke in his 'classroom' you were punished. This morning all I'd done was make a slightly smart comment about his teaching style in my balance exercises – to stand me on a bench and push me without warning – and he'd come down double hard.

Suddenly, I'd been in an impromptu sparring session.

I'd had no hope in even holding my own, for obvious reasons, but it didn't stop Tank. When he was finished practically pummelling me, he made me run my regular distance. Twice. I was exhausted nearly before the day had even begun.

On my way back to my apartment to shower and change for the day, I got a call from Lester, who was supposed to be looking after searches for the morning. An important case had cropped up, he'd informed me, and the entire A-Team was required in meetings for the rest of the day. So could I pretty please come in and run searches for a few hours so that they didn't get too far behind. Of course, I could hardly say no, since they were training me for free. The least I could do was repay them with a little desk time when they needed it. I tried to tell him I'd be over as soon as I'd showered and changed, but he'd sounded desperate in his insisting that I come straight away.

"You can spare a moment to change in the bathroom on four if you really need to," he'd said. "I'll have Ella bring a set of clothes down for you. The searches really do need to get done ASAP."

I rolled my eyes. If he'd been doing them himself he'd take almost twice as long as me to complete the entire large (I assumed) stack, but of course, it was one rule for Lester and another for everyone else. Sighing, I assured him that I would in my cubicle post haste to get his searches done and promptly turned the car around.

My lunch time I was feeling absolutely grotty. I ducked up to Ranger's seventh floor apartment for a quick shower only to find the A-Team huddled around the dining table. My eyes wide as tea cup saucers, I ducked my head and hurriedly backed away, muttering apologies for interrupting as I went. I'd just assumed that the apartment would be empty. That Ranger would be with the A-Team in a meeting in one of the conference rooms like they usually were. Never before had I heard of them all retiring to the seventh floor for important case meetings. Maybe it was extra secret. Or extra sensitive.

Ranger looked up briefly, taking in my dishevelled, I-worked-out-this-morning-and-haven't-touched-this-pony-tail-since hair and the pink blush rising on my cheeks and twitched his lips like he wanted to smile. The rest of the men appeared not to have noticed my presence. Whether that was actually the case or not was another matter, but I was grateful for it either way.

Finally, two hours later, I'd finished the pile of searches Lester had left on my desk and was on my way home where a hot shower and some good, old fashioned leftovers awaited me. I allowed myself the luxury of standing under the shower spray for several long minutes before finally stepping out and towel drying my hair.

I'd been on the couch no more than two minutes when there was a knock at my door. Looking from my lap where the half eaten vegetarian lasagne lay and the direction of the door, trying to decide if it was even worth getting up, I called, "Who is it?"

"Babe," came the reply, and I could hear a hint of a smile in his voice.

"Let yourself in," I told him loudly. "I'm comfortable."

He towered in the doorway to the living room a moment later, taking in my garb and position. "Tough day?" he asked. I just rolled my eyes and took a bite of my lasagne. Ranger crossed the room to sit beside me, filching the fork from my hand and stealing some of my food. "Vegetarian," he approved, taking another forkful.

"Dad still isn't entirely accepting of his new diet," I informed him, trying to grab the fork back. "But I don't think it's that bad." A couple of months ago my dad had a heart attack. He came through it okay, but it meant a lot of lifestyle for the Plum family. Daddy now spent less time sitting on the couch and more time on the treadmill. Of course, this didn't mean he spent less time watching TV. I'm not sure he'd have survived if Mom hadn't agreed to put the treadmill in the living room. And of course the food. We were all now subjected to a much more balanced diet when we went to visit, but of course, Daddy lived it every day.

I'd like to say that Daddy's heart attack wasn't the catalyst for my own new training regime, but I'm pretty sure it was. The doctor said that heart conditions were often hereditary. That meant it could happen to me. I really didn't want it too, so I enlisted the fittest and healthiest people I knew. Ranger and his band of Merry Men. Well, technically, I'd enlisted Bobby's help, but it branched out a bit from there. Ranger in particular was all too happy to take me running with him at five in the morning, an offer I kindly declined.

"How was Tank this morning?" he asked now, drawing me back to the present.

I groaned, leaning my head back against the couch. "He's a Nazi!" I complained. "I thought he was a friend. And then he gets me alone for training and it's like every ounce of friend is sucked out of him. He pushed me off a bench!"

Ranger actually chuckled at that. I'd have hit his arm if I didn't know it would hurt. "Tank takes his work very seriously. If you like, I'll sub in tomorrow."

"You're not upset that I chose Bobby to train me over you, are you?" I'd been worrying over it ever since I started this endeavour. The logical choice would have been to choose my almost boyfriend to help me out, but that was exactly why I hadn't. If I got Ranger to train me and we did eventually get together properly we'd be all kinds of distracted. At least, _I_ would be. To hide the fact that I was waiting anxiously for his answer, I took a large bit of my food, chewing carefully.

He reached a hand out and tucked a curl behind my ear as I swallowed. "I'm just proud of you for taking control of your life," he assured me. "How would you feel about stepping into a more involved role at Rangeman?" he asked.

* * *

_Thanks for the responses to the Prologue and first chapter! I hope you're intrigued by the story and continue to read and review._


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"At this stage we're still collecting information and following up on witness statements," Ranger explained, clicking something on his laptop to bring up a spreadsheet on the projector screen behind him. I quickly skimmed the breakdown of tasks he'd put together and found that I would be working searches for the most part, but I saw that I was scheduled for phone interviews the following day. "We will need to get a game plan put together as soon as possible. The sooner we're active, the sooner we can ensure that this doesn't happen again."

It was Monday morning and we - the A-Team and I – were crowded around the conference table discussing this case Ranger had pulled me in to work on. According to the file in front of me there was a growing epidemic of increasingly destructive and dangerous pranks at Rutgers University. I questioned our involvement in such a case, suggesting that usually the university and maybe police would deal with it themselves, but Ranger shook his head.

"The 'pranks'," he air quoted, "are escalating in their severity. The Dean believes they are part of a bigger plot, but the police are convinced it's just young people being drunk and disorderly."

I nodded slowly, understanding the frustration created when things are going wrong and nobody believes you, but it still left the question on of _Rangeman_ had been brought in.

Tank smirked at my questioning look. "The usual gig, Bomber. Figure out the mystery and end it."

"Why do I feel like Scooby Doo when you put it like that?" I asked.

"There is no way you're Scooby," Lester assured me. "If I had to choose you'd be Daphne. Cos she's hot."

Glances were exchanged across the table, all the guys eyeing each other off. "I call Fred!" they all shouted as once.

I looked to Ranger, how looked like he wanted to sigh. "A bunch of Shaggys," he muttered under his breath and swiftly steered the conversation back on track. We went through the details of a few of the 'pranks' and I could see why the Dean would be nervous. These weren't the dip-a-sleeping-person's-hand-in-warm-water-to-make-them-wet-the-bed kind of pranks I recalled from my younger days. These were exploding toilets and Molotov toilet paper. Things that could really hurt people.

"How do you propose we solve this?" I asked as everyone got up to leave. We'd discussed all sorts of things from what kinds of questions to ask who, ways to enhance our searches to theories that arose from the surface information we already had, but there had been no strategy for once we had the information and needed to make a move. I was all for having a game plan, but what was I supposed to do once I'd run a bunch of background searches on footballers, cheerleaders and geeks?

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it," Ranger informed me, but the look in his eyes said he had some ideas he was trying to work through. I got up to follow the men out and get started on portion of the searches listed in the file, but he stopped me with a hand on my shoulder. "How deep into this are you willing to get?" he asked, and there was a peculiar set to his eyes. I studied them a moment before giving my answer.

"As deep as I need to go," I assured him. "These kids have a right to be safe."

He nodded, like that had been the answer he was looking for and pressed a kiss to my hair. "Thanks, Babe."

* * *

_After a strategy meeting of my own, I am much much MUCH more excited about this story than I was when I started it. And let me tell you, I was REALLY excited when I started it._

_Also, please send your feedback, I'd love to hear from you._


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The next evening we were back around the conference table, discussing our findings over Chinese food. I'd decided not to have my folder directly in front of me, given that I didn't want food stains all over it. Someone was going to read it at some stage and on the off chance that it was me, I didn't want to have to scrap of sweet and sour sauce to get to the information. I'm sure the guys would appreciate it too.

We took turns around the table explaining our findings. The guys had spoken with a few boys who'd fallen victim to the pranks. Apparently each one blamed it on a woman, though not necessarily the same woman. I had spoken to a few girls that had the reverse accusations, blaming them on men. We felt this was a significant finding, so began to look into gender segregated social organisations on campus, cross checking the names against the victim list we had compiled. Almost all the boys played on the football team. And while that in itself was shocking – who'd want to invoke the wrath of footballers? – the female statistics had us scratching our heads. The majority of the female victims were cheerleaders. With this fresh connection we went back and checked the leftover men, finding that, with the exception of one a handful of people all the victims landed in either the footballer or cheerleader category.

Curiouser and curiouser, as Alice in Wonderland would put it.

"Where do we go from here?" Lester asked, scooping spilt fried rice off the table and popping it in his mouth. "We can't exactly storm the castle."

I smiled at his dungeons and dragons type description of their most common action. "We need to find out who would be targeting the cheerleaders and footballers," I offered.

Bobby sat back in his chair. "Well the natural enemy of the jock is the nerd, is it not?" he spoke as though lecturing a class. "And cheerleaders are hated by pretty much every other female in the world. It's a jealousy thing." He raised his eyebrows at me, as if accusing me of something,

"I'm not jealous of cheerleaders," I stated automatically. "They're plastic bitches, they don't deserve my jealousy. I have better things to be jealous of."

"Like people who can keep the same car for more than three months without it blowing up?" Lester teased.

I didn't dignify that with a response, mostly because it was true. I was getting really sick of explosions. Instead, I turned to Ranger and Tank, who sat passively at the other end of the table. "We can speculate on stereotypes all we want, but until we know who's behind this we can't do anything about it. None of the cheerleaders seemed to think they had any enemies." I looked to Bobby, whom I knew had been interviewing the male victims. "What about the boys?"

"They didn't mention any when I asked," he stated.

Tank sat forward in his chair at this point, speaking for the first time all meeting. "Why don't we forget about the who for now and focus on the what?"

"What?" Lester and I uttered in confused unison.

"The pranks," he said. "Maybe if we analyse the crimes it will lead us to the culprit."

So we spent the next ten minutes making a list of the pranks, or crimes, or whatever you wanted to call them. Exploding toilets, Molotov toilet paper, cars filled with shaving cream, hair conditioner supplemented with hair removal cream, toothpaste replaced with substances that appeared on first glance to be human waste, hair brushes filled with urine, bathroom vents filled with boric acid. The list went on and seemed to get more cruel and vicious the closer we got to the present.

"It's all a bit of toilet humour isn't it?" Bobby eventually said, setting down his file. As a collective, we gave him raised eyebrows, curious as to what he was on about. "They're all bathroom related," he explained.

I quickly glanced back over the list we'd made and sure enough, he was right. Each one of the pranks had something to do with the bathroom. "Who would make a bathroom themed attack on cheerleaders and footballers?" I asked the room at large. It made no sense to me, but then, I wasn't the security expert.

"Chem students?" Bobby suggested.

"Engineering students?" Lester added.

"Plumbers?" Tank said.

Ranger shook his head and I had to agree with the motion. None of the suggestions seemed right. "We'll look into all of them, but I have a feeling we'll need to dig deeper," he announced.

Lester sat up a little straighter, his interest piqued. "How deep are we talking here?" he asked.

"As deep as we need to go," Ranger responded swiftly, returning pages to his file as he spoke. "Undercover recon if we have to."

At once, I was filled with both excitement and dread. I'd never really done any undercover work – distractions surely didn't count toward that type of thing – so I had no idea what to expect. I wanted to believe that Ranger wouldn't put me in a dangerous situation, such as a college where there was a known crime ring, but I also wanted to try my hand at this to see if I was any good. My natural curiosity seemed like it would be an asset in this kind of situation. Then again, that's what the guys usually said about my skip tracing, and it usually lead me straight into danger.

I don't think I've ever been so divided on a prospective job.

* * *

_Thanks to all those who have reviewed or followed. I hope you're still as curious, if not curiouser, with this new batch of information. Don't forget to send in your reviews._


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

It was lunch time the next day when we all met up again, and I noticed that Hal and Hank had also been pulled in to the meeting. To me, that meant either they had some expertise that we could use, or we were moving forward and needed more man power. Personally, I was hoping it was the latter, because knowing that one of the guys was an expert in toilet related pranks that could be escalated into a proper crime, was kind of unnerving. Not that possibly going undercover wasn't unnerving, of course.

The meeting time came up and Ranger was staring at the door, one eyebrow raised. Usually by now he'd have gotten the meeting rolling, but he made no move to even stand up from his chair. The guys and I were exchanging glances, wondering if he was waiting for one of us to just start talking, or if he was in some kind of mental conflict. Eventually, Tank cleared his throat and opened his mouth to get things going, but Ranger simply cut his eyes to him and gave a slight head shake.

We were running two minutes late – which by Rangeman standards is practically an eternity – when the door Ranger was staring at crashed open and Caboose all but fell inside. "I'm so sorry I'm late!" he announced. "I was covering for Cal. He had to go to the bathroom and couldn't leave the monitors una-."

"We don't need your life story," Ranger stated. "You've taken up enough time. Just take your seat so we can start."

Caboose was new. Clearly. He'd been with Rangeman maybe three months and had been an endless source of amusement for the guys. His real name was Rodney, or something equally as horrific, and he had absolutely no concept of sarcasm and common slang. When he started, Bobby was put in charge of showing him around and making sure the guys were aware of him. It had taken almost two weeks before anyone knew his real name. The name Rodney wasn't even mentioned until about a week and a half after he started. Bobby had just decided to call him Caboose. We later found out that the decision was influenced by the _Red vs Blue_ obsession he had going at the time.

Ranger started by getting Hank, Hal and Caboose up to speed on the situation, moving quickly through the 'pranks' and their victims and on to the theories we'd already floated. Tank, Lester, Bobby and I gave our updates on what we'd found out about footballer and cheerleader relationships with the rest of the university, which let me tell you, wasn't a lot. As I finished my extended version of flat out saying "I got nothin'," Ranger was nodding his head grimly. He'd made his decision.

"We're going in," he stated firmly.

"Going in where?" Caboose asked, causing us all to question his intelligence.

I'm sure Ranger's eye would have been twitching if he were a lesser man. As it were, he just seemed to be glaring at him. Taking a deep breath, probably to ensure he didn't accidentally laugh, Tank explained slowly, "We're going undercover at the university."

"Oh," he uttered, realisation dawning. "Right."

In the silence that followed that stupidity I looked around the table, taking in the six muscled men surrounding me, wondering how they would possibly slip into college life so that no one suspected they didn't belong. Sure, universities were full of all sorts of people and even people of different ages, but something told me that a handful of men in their thirties who liked to dress in black for the convenience it provided and were buffer than a freshly waxed floor just suddenly turning up halfway through the semester wouldn't go unnoticed. It was this train of thought that lead me to voice a question. "All of us?" I asked uncertainly.

Ranger shook his head briefly. "No," he said. "I've already spoken with the Dean. He's approved no more than three to be integrated as students. Any covers we may need to establish other than this have nothing to do with the school."

"So who's going in?" Bobby asked, and I'm fairly certain there was a barely veiled eagerness in his voice.

"Lester, Hal and Steph," Ranger said almost immediately.

Shocked, I opened my mouth to protest, but anything I might have said was drowned out by the whoops and cheers of Hal and Lester as the punched the air and high fived each other across the table. I snapped my mouth shut, eyeing the other guys' reactions. Tank, as always, looked indifferent, Hank and Bobby were obviously disappointed in the decision, while Caboose just sort of looked, well, like Caboose. It was hard to tell if he fully grasped the situation. And then there was me, somewhere in between excited and disappointed, and doing my best to decide which way to jump.

"Babe?" Ranger said as Lester and Hal began chattering enthusiastically about whatever it is two grown men chatter about when they've just been informed they're about to go back to college with no pressure to do anything but find a prankster before things go too far. I lifted my head to meet his eyes and saw the questioning look he was giving me.

"Are you sure?" I asked him.

"Of course," he assured me, then to the rest he said, "Let's talk covers."

"Shotgun on the footballer!" Lester exclaimed at once, causing a groan from Hal.

Caboose shuffled through some pictures that were spread across the centre of the conference table and picked up a shot of the football team, scrutinising it carefully. "I don't see any shotguns," he said slowly. We all joined in Hal's groan this time. How did this guy even get the job?

Ignoring Caboose, Ranger turned to Lester, Hal and I. "We've got an opening of the football team and two on the cheers squad," he explained, looking between us. "Lester, you'll be on the football team." Lester made an appreciative sound. "Leaving the two of you," he added unnecessarily, "on the cheer squad."

I shook my head firmly. There was no way I could possibly pull off this kind of gig. Slutty, I can do. Sexy, I can do. I can even kinda dance, provided the intended audience doesn't mind how lousy I am at it. I'd taken a few gymnastics classes as a kid, but that was a long time ago. I wasn't so sure I'd be able to do a simple tumble at this point in my life without a crash and burn outcome. I mean, I couldn't even manage driving a car without incident most of the time.

"That's not going to work," I stated flatly. "I can't pass for a cheerleader. They're all blonde and perky and bouncy. I'm not."

"Relax," Ranger said. "Hal was a cheerleader in high school. He can teach you a few rudimentary rules to get your through. We only need the cover to hold long enough to bust whoever's behind this."

"You could always fake an injury if people start to seem suspicious," Hank advised, "That'd get you out of actually doing the moves."

"Wait, wait, wait," Lester cut in. "I think we're skipping over a very important point here." He physically turned his entire body so that he squarely facing Hal. "You were a cheerleader?"

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_Likely, the next chapter will not be out until Friday night, so savour this one. I'm grateful for all the reviews that have been sent in and the people who are still adding the story to their follow lists. Please keep it up, I love hearing from you._


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Hal paled at Lester's sudden interest in his past. As one of the younger members of the Rangeman crew he constantly had to prove himself to the more established members of the team. They ridiculed his more innovated ways of achieving goals on a daily basis. And that was before they knew he was a male cheerleader in high school. I could only imagine going the kind of ribbing he was going to cop for that.

"How did you go from cheerleader to badass-military?" Hank asked, leaning his elbows on the table. "Well, kinda badass," he amended after a moment's thought.

Lester shook his head, still staring raptly at Hal. "That doesn't matter right now," he said. "We have to see if he can still do stuff." Swiftly, he rose from his chair, snatching up his phone from the table and heading to the door. He paused when he reached it, looking back over his shoulder at us. "Well?" he prompted. "Are you coming or not?"

And so, without speaking a word, we all trooped down to the gym – Hal rather reluctantly – and cleared the entire facility, as per Hal's request. Of course, Lester had he phone out with the camera at the ready, but that was different. He was _making a video for me to study so I could accurately fake being a cheerleader. _Chances were I would eventually pay repeated witness to the video, but not because I was studying the moves. I had a sudden vision of the clip playing in a loop on the television in the break room.

The rest of us sat down on the bench that ran around the edge of the room and waited as Hal changed into a pair of sweats and did some stretching. Finally, he stepped onto the corner of the mat. And started doing some flippy thingies across the floor, alternating hands and feet. He landed in the corner diagonally opposite to where he started with the typical gymnast pose of feet together, arms in the air before launching into a standing back flip. He did some other stuff too, but it's hard to describe without the correct vocabulary base, so suffice to say that he did some cool stuff with his body.

When he was done he stood in the middle of the mat, hands by his side, just staring at us. Waiting.

"What?" Hank said. "No cheering?"

"Fuck you," Hal said, and stormed toward the locker room.

"There is no way I can do that," I said aloud, gazing after Hal. "Pretty sure it takes years of practice to do that stuff."

Ranger reefed Hank up off the bench and thrust him in the direction Hal had just gone. "Get him back out here," he commanded, garnering a disbelieving expression from Hank. "I don't care what you have to do to make him come out, just do it." As Hank walked away, he turned his attention to me. "Try it for a couple of days and if you can't get it, we'll try figure something else out."

At that moment Hank and Hal stepped out of the locker room and started toward us once more. Ranger told Hal to start teaching me some basics and herded everyone out. Before they reached the door, though, I heard Bobby tell Ranger that he had a possible Plan B that he'd like to discuss privately with him.

I ducked into the locker room to change into a pair of basketball shorts Ranger kept in his locker for my use and came back out to face Hal, chewing on my bottom lip, my mind whirling over any alternative cover stories that might work in the situation. I couldn't come up with any.

"Whatever you're thinking, push it from your mind," Hal instructed. "You don't want to complicate things." I nodded and tried not to think, which is really hard. It's like when I was a kid and I went to camp and we played _The Game_. You know, the one we all just lost by thinking about it? Anyway, I was determined to do my best and make this work. "We'll start with a simple handstand," he informed me and stepped back to allow me the space to attempt a handstand. This was going to be a disaster.

* * *

_We's gettin' closer. I can smell it. Please don't forget to send in your reviews._


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Three days later I stood in the centre of the gym mats in my basketball shorts and t-shirt, facing a jury of my peers. Ranger, Tank, Bobby, Lester, Hank and Caboose were lined up along the bench waiting for a demonstration of what I had learned. Hal would be doing it with me, but that didn't give me anymore confidence. Just because he was right beside me didn't mean I'd perform any better.

Lester pulled his iPhone out of his pocket and I groaned. This was definitely not going to end well. If I though Hal might be put through the wringer for doing _good_ gymnastics, I didn't even want to contemplate what the Merry Men would do with footage of me failing at gymnastics.

"Funniest Home Videos here I come," I muttered to myself.

"You'll be fine, Steph," Hal encouraged brightly, but I'd learned to recognise his Happy-Happy-Joy-Joy Cheer face, and let me tell you, it was worse than the blank expression I was used to.

Hank jumped up from the bench as Hal made his way over to the CD player to start the music. "Wait!" he exclaimed.

Ranger glared at him. "I told you, this isn't a free show. You can't invite the men to come watch."

Bobby rolled his eyes. "We were gonna charge admission and sell snacks, dude," he defended. "And we'd have donated the money to a good cause."

"Like my hospital bill when we're through here today?" I offered, managing to keep my own Happy-Happy-Joy-Joy Cheer face in place as I said it.

"That wasn't why I was saying wait," Hank said, reaching under the bench and pulling out two bags – _How had he smuggled those in? _"They don't look like cheerleaders," he explained. "I had a feeling this would happen, so I got you both something." He held out the bags toward Hal and me.

I took the bag warily and looked inside. It was a wad of black and purple fabric. Probably a cheerleading uniform. Pulling it out, I confirmed my suspicions. In my hand I held a tiny black crop top with RANGEMAN printed diagonally across it in purple and a short, pleated, black and purple skirt. I looked over at Hal, who was holding up a t-shirt and a pair of long pants. I felt gypped.

"Go changed," Hank encouraged. "We'll wait. And don't forget the shoes."

Peering once more into the bag, I discovered that it did indeed contain a pair of matching sneakers. Hank was so going to get it. I wasn't sure what _it_ was at this point in time, but it wasn't going to be pleasant, whatever it was.

After a quick change and an extra swipe of mascara for confidence, we were back in front of the others, starting the routine Hal had put together. I knew from the hours of research I'd done the past couple of evenings, watching the Bring It On movies that this was extremely simplified. And I still couldn't do it properly.

I gave it my best try, stumbling through and running into Hal on more than one occasion. Somehow we made it through to the very last element without major injury. I was supposed to finish standing on Hal's shoulders. We'd only vaguely managed the move once in practice, so this was the moment of truth. I stood behind him as he crouched down, clasping hands. I put one foot on his shoulder and mentally counted back from three. When I reached one, Hal stood up, lifting me with him and I quickly fitted my other foot on his shoulder. Now all I had to do was straighten and let go.

The music ended while I was still working up the courage to stand up but no one moved. I didn't dare even glance in the direction of our audience for fear of falling.

"You can do it, Steph," Hal whispered. "I'll catch you if you fall. But you won't."

With that encouragement, I straightened my knees and let go of his hands, slowing raising my upper body until I was standing tall on his shoulders.

The guys cheered at my belated achievement and I took the chance to look at them. They were on their feet, whooping and cheering, big grins plastered on their faces. As my legs began to shake, I sought out Ranger's gaze. "I'd like to try Plan B," I informed him through the racket.

"You have to get down first, Babe," he replied, sounding slightly amused.

I felt Hal shift under me just slightly, his grip loosening on my ankles. "Just cradle out like I showed you," Hal said.

"I can't," I stated firmly. I was pretty sure I had no control over my limbs, which were now shaking so terribly that my fear of falling was quickly renewed.

Ranger saw my growing distress and closed the distance between us, taking the few steps necessary to stand directly in front of Hal. He extended his hands toward me. "Lean down and put your hands on my shoulders," he instructed. "I'll catch you."

Eventually, I managed to do as he said and within a few seconds I was cradled securely in his arms. I felt safer, but the feeling would not be truly complete until I could feel the solid ground beneath my feet. Ranger must have sensed this as well, because the next thing I knew I stood on the mat, leaning against his chest as the guys surrounded me.

"Way to go Bomber!" Lester exclaimed somewhere behind me.

"We knew you could do it," Hank added.

"We're moving on to Plan B," I informed them without a shadow of doubt. There was no way in the world the current plan was going to succeed. College cheerleading was a pretty big thing. People would notice how crap I am at it and ask questions about how I managed to get on the team.

Bobby held my gaze for a long moment, his expression solemn. "Hold off on that decision until you hear all the details," he requested. The seriousness of his tone made my already weak knees give out and I would have collapsed on the ground in a heap, had Ranger not had me firmly encircled in his arms, holding me up.

* * *

_Things are getting a little hectic over here, but I'll try to keep updating when I can. Thanks for all the feedback, please keep it up._


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

While Steph was showering, Ranger herded the men upstairs to the conference room. He knew that they were going to be highly opinionated over the plan Bobby had proposed. Hell, Ranger himself had been against the idea for a whole twenty-four hours. He'd looked into every single possibly alternative that he could think of so that they wouldn't even need to put the idea to Steph for consideration. As the second day wore on, though, and he watched Steph's training sessions with Hal on his computer monitor, he started to consider the plan a little more. There were definite advantages to it. He just worried that she wouldn't see it like that.

Steph had spent her entire life being told how to act. Her mother tried to control every aspect of her life even to this day. As a result, Steph – while she may not realise it – had a certain people-pleaser tendency. Sure, she rebelled all the time, but she really hated imposing her authority over anyone, including her skips. Chances are, if Ranger were to inform Steph that he needed her to do this in order to solve the case, she would do it, but he didn't want that to happen. She needed to start asserting herself and take control of her life.

Ranger travelled his gaze, blank as he could make, around the table as Bobby finished explaining the plan. There was silence for a full minute before each one of them – except Caboose – snapped their heads around to stare at him.

"You're seriously considering this?" Tank asked incredulously. Ranger merely nodded.

"Dude," Lester said. "You _know_ that if you ask her she'll say yes no matter what."

Hank was quick to jump in before Ranger could respond to Lester's comments. "Brain surgery is risky. What if something happens and she's worse off?"

Ranger opened his mouth to say something, but Tank spoke across him. "There is no way you can even offer this option up to Steph. She'd do it to please and help you without even considering the consequences. What if there's a malfunction? What if the surgeon cuts too deep into an area he shouldn't have gone? What if -."

"What if Steph considers all that and still wants to do it?" Bobby interrupted calmly. "Are you going to tell her not to?"

"She doesn't need to make her decision today, does she?" Hal asked.

"No," Ranger stated firmly. "She'll have a week to think it over before she makes the final decision."

Tank glared at his boss. "But you're going to book the neurosurgeon anyway, aren't you?" he guessed.

"Neurosurgeon?" came a distinctly female voice from the doorway. The men simultaneously jerked their heads in her direction, surprised that she'd managed to sneak up on them. "Who need brain surgery?"

* * *

_Uh oh. What's Steph gonna think of the Plan? Review to find out._


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